


Lemonade Stand (But Also Hot Chocolate BECAUSE THAT'S WHY JEFFERSON)

by Miss221b



Series: Your Friendly Neighborhood 'Verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a jerk, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, But also, Feud, Fluff, Jealous Jefferson, M/M, Thomas is a jerk, and are totally best friends over their mutual "fed-up-ness", bff leggy is life, everyone is a cutie, everyone is making mistakes, in which james and john are fed up with their boyfriends shit, lemonade or hot chocolate?, nobody here knows how to handle "emotions", someone help them pls, the jeffmads angst is chapter 9 btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss221b/pseuds/Miss221b
Summary: Honestly, James just wanted to spend his Saturday curled up with his boyfriend, reading a book, keeping the coughing to a minimum, and pretending that there's a ring on his finger and maybe that Alexander Hamilton didn't exist.Hahaha. Yeah, right.Modern day neighborhood au! Today's adventure; Thomas opens a lemonade stand to spite Alexander, and this will, of course, not stand in the least. Shenanigans ensue, Alex is a brat who doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, James just wants to get married, and Thomas doesn't understand why his boyfriend is drunk in Alexander Hamilton's basement.





	1. Why Are There Lemons Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to start this series. I've written a million different little stories for this universe in my head and now I'm finally getting them all down!
> 
> Basically, everyone from the play lives in the same neighborhood and GWash is in charge of the Homeowner's Association, after George was kicked out of the position by vote of literally everyone. Everything revolves around this parallel!

It wasn’t that James didn’t understand his boyfriend’s deep-seated hatred for Alexander Hamilton. The man was an ingenious motor-mouth with virtually no social skills. James would know; he had dated him for all of four months their senior year of high school before they all started to grow up. (Not that Thomas was even vaguely aware of that relationship – he had dumped his then bestfriend/now boyfriend for the foreign exchange program and was gone to France all of that year so _hush_ ).

            So yes, James understood. He saw, in its entirety, where Thomas was coming from. On the other hand, the hand that-shall-not-be-named, James also wholeheartedly understood what it was about Jefferson that set their neighbor off. He understood particularly well as he woke up that morning to an empty bed and a tangy, citrus smell in the air.

            A smell that did not in any way resemble macaroni, or cheese, or macaroni and cheese; cause for worry. Groaning, James forced himself to sit up and peer blearily around the room. Their clock read 6:13, much too early for Thomas to be up before James. That is unless, of course, he was plotting.

            _What a wonderful way to spend our Saturday_ , he thought to himself with as much sarcasm as he could manage that early. The floors were chilly under his bare feet when he rolled out of bed and his robe was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed Thomas’s instead, aware of how frivolous he looked in the too long magenta poof, but too cold to care. Overall, it was not shaping up to be one of those mornings where he tolerated **The Feud**. At least, not in his house.

            Luckily, when he reached downstairs, his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. The only sign of his recent presence was the lemons littered all across the kitchen and their poor Juicer sitting in the middle of it all. Raising an eyebrow, he took the quite moment to postulate how cute Thomas looked when he cleaned. He never had any idea what he was doing, throwing things this way and that until James was frowning a little less. His face was always scrunched together, as though the mere thought of putting things back was more baffling to him then Hamilton’s new plan for the Homeowner’s Association collection system. A confused Thomas was always a cute Thomas, and James began to tolerate the idea of their Saturday not being utter shit.

            That was, until he heard said boyfriend screaming outside.

            “ _Lemonade is an American tradition, not that you would understand you immigrant._ ”

            James couldn’t understand Hamilton’s response, but he did understand that it was six in the morning and Thomas was fighting Alexander with lemonade and it was _way to early for this bullshit_. He wonders for a moment what it would be like to walk away, curl up in his chair, and just read. Maybe with a cup of tea.

            “ _You wanna come over here and say that to my face_? _”_

            James pushed open the front door, stepping out into the real world. Or maybe stepping out of it. The latter certainly seemed more probable as he took in the sight in front of him.

            Thomas sat, reclining nonchalantly over his office chair in the middle of the sidewalk. In front of him was that fold out table they had buried in the basement. The basement that was almost certainly completely upheaved now. James couldn’t read the sign taped to the front of the table, but he was fairly certain it had something to do with the pitcher full of lemonade and stack of plastic cups posed on the table.

            Across the street, Hamilton’s sign was also a big clue.

            **Hot Chocolate – Only $2!**

            And then, on a smaller sign obviously tapped onto that one,

            **Proven to be 34.6% Better Than Lemonade!**

            These were, of course, taped to his respective chair and table, plopped right in front of his home across the street from theirs. Wait, was that his dining room table? The curtains twitched behind him, and judging from the look John gave the whole situation from inside the house, yes. It definitely was their heavy wooden dining table that Hamilton had dragged outside. 

            Thomas scoffs at whatever it was Alexander had said last, and James was jerked back into the present. The very unfortunate present. This was his life. A neighborhood subdivision where everyone simultaneously loved and hated each other in a strange and untraceable cycle.

            Thankfully John caught his eye from inside, and dropped the curtain to move for the front door. James stepped off of their porch, making his way towards his boyfriend, who at that moment looked a lot more like his petty best friend at five years old than the grownass man he had gotten into bed with last night.

            _“James_ ,” Thomas crows without turning around, trying to seem like an omniscient badass who knows all in the world, instead of a regular human being who had just heard James step on a twig. “I was just trying to explain to Alexander here what seasons are, since he doesn’t seem to know its late spring and _not winter_.”

            _“Madison_ ,” Alexander yells across the street, not to be outdone, “I was just trying to explain to your simpleton boyfriend the basic principles of _business_ , but it seems a bit out of his grasp.”

            “Enlighten me,” James replies, deadpan, watching John emerge from the enemy’s abode and walking towards him.

            “Well,” Alexander preens, interpreting Madison’s path in his direction as a win and he can just feel Thomas’s eyes squinting behind him, “business is simply about demand, and seeing as how there has been quite the odd cold streak these last few weeks, the technical season doesn’t matter,” his attention shifts back to Thomas as he yells, “you do understand that the weather isn’t determined by some weather-god with respect to the arbitrary seasons, _right_?”

            James just walks past him, ignoring Thomas’s indignant response about a “weather-god,” and that conversation was officially veering into “six more hours of yelling minimum” territory.

            John, looking entirely nonplussed by the situation but pleased with James’s presence, holds the door open for him.

            “Tea?”

            James just raises an eyebrow at his friend. John looks back out at their respective boyfriends and sighs.

            “You’re right, it’s a coffee morning.”

            “Every morning is a coffee morning in this neighborhood,” James grumbles, walking gratefully into the kitchen.

            Every damn morning. 


	2. Lemonade and Coffee

“So,” James began, watching John pour the coffee, “how goes the bookstore?”

            John straightened up immediately, ready to launch into a tirade. He was so much like his boyfriend, but in a much more socially acceptable way.

            John Laurens owned a bookstore just inside the city limits. Well, co-owned. Technically, he, Lafayette, and Hercules owned the building together. Herc was just on the other side of the building with his tailoring business. John was on the left side, selling a variety of novels, but primarily those which focused on civil rights and injustices and the American Revolution. The two were separated with several beaded curtains and artfully placed bookshelves, courtesy of Lafayette. He considered himself the manager of the whole building, and could often be seen flitting around with jars of paint and random décor. Both John and Herc were much to absorbed in their work to care that the walls turned neon blue overnight. It was a strange dynamic, but overall held well. Everything ran perfectly and the customers loved it all. James smiled to himself thinking about his friends.

            “It’s going great actually. We have another benefit to raise awareness for LGBTQ rights tonight, this one is going to be very posh.”

            Well, as posh as a party located in a neon blue bookstore/tailor’s office. Still, with Lafayette involved, James was sure it would turn out insane, and probably even in a good way.

            John peered at him, his lips pursed thoughtfully, “I did send you an invitation…”  
            James raised an eyebrow and his friend chuckled. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time Hamilton had seen it fit for him to ‘revoke’ Jefferson’s invitation to anything dealing with John and, well, Madison and Jefferson were a two-for-one deal.

            John reached into their drawer and shuffled around for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper.

            “It’s just the rough draft but, here, you’re invited again,” he handed James the hand-drawn invitation and his cup of coffee.

            “Well, it certainly doesn’t look like my Saturday was shaping up for anything else,” James indicated towards the front door and the _children_ outside, “do you want to drive in together again?”

            “I’m going in a couple hours early to help Laf finish setting up, if that’s okay?”

            “Leaving earlier? All the better.”

            The two chuckled together and fell into a comfortable silence over their coffee. James wasn’t really sure when he and John Laurens became actual friends. Sure, they had been friendly neighbors. Sure, they had known each other in school. James had dated his then best-friend for God’s sake. Still, they had never been _friends_ , at least not until **The Feud** started, and suddenly they had quite common ground on which to complain. Ground upon which the flowers of friendship had finally grown. James inwardly groaned at his own terrible analogy. John would hate it too. But if that wasn’t a summary of their quaint relationship then he didn’t know what was. Mutual exhaustion and irritation, and it was probably the healthiest relationship James had.

            A sharp _smack_ rang outside the house, and James was up. Looking out the door, he saw a child scurrying away down the sidewalk, holding one of John’s kitchen glasses with hot chocolate slopping out of it all over the sidewalk. Thomas was standing on the other side of the road, the chair thrown to the side. Hamilton was reclining deep into his chair, his knees crossed politely and looking as if he had just won the presidential election or something. The screaming had resumed full force.

            “Are you _trying_ to ruin this country? You know what, I take that back, of _course_ you are! That’s the whole reason your over here! You’re selling chocolate to children and taking advantage of the fact that they’re cold, you’re going to fatten this entire neighborhood! You’re training our children to resort to fatty foods whenever they’re _cold, Hamilton,_ you’re going to kill them all!”

            Hamilton just raised an eyebrow, “so you concede that it’s cold?”

            Thomas looked ready to knock the table over next, and James liked that pitcher too much, thank you.

            “Thomas!” He called from the porch, hurrying down and across the street, “do you want to come to John’s benefit with me tonight? I know you’ve been looking for an excuse to wear that new magenta suit!”

            For a second, the diversion tactic almost worked. He saw Thomas’s eyes shift from Alexander’s and he slipped in _Jemmy_ mode. James always found it lovely how quickly he could shift from unadulterated rage to pure love when he looked at James. And then,

            “I don’t think Jefferson was actually invited to that,” Hamilton grumbled. John, who had arrived at his side, smacked him in the arm accusingly.

            “And I don’t think you actually should have two invitations, Alex, so maybe there was a _mistake_.”

            Thomas’s eyes shifted back to his nemesis, glaring at him ferociously, “I’m sorry, did you _steal_ my invitation from my mailbox, _Hamilton_? You are aware that is a _federal crime_ , yes?”

            “The federal crime is you ruining the benefit asshat!” Alex yelled back.

            Jefferson reared back, ready to run at him, but was stopped by James’s firm grasp on his arm. He looked back at him, and it’s enough of a break for John to drag Alexander kicking and screaming back inside. James released his arm and walked inside their home, Thomas following him and complaining about Hamilton.

            As soon as they’re inside, James pressed him against the wall and kissed him. It was quite a feat considering their height difference, but Thomas only stood to his full height around Hamilton. When they pull apart, James breaths against Thomas’s lips, “Dearest, I literally do. not. care.”

            And he was off, on the way to their closet. Which, by the way, was about 95% Thomas’s and only 5% James’s. He heard said boyfriend huff indignantly and then patter quickly after him. Thomas went immediately to the right corner and started shuffling through the varying, vivid color of suits, not saying anything to James. Knowing full well how to rile Thomas up, James smirked and started thumbing one of his old gray suits. When there was no acknowledgment from the corner, he pulled at the hanger, disengaging the drab thing from the rack. That did the trick, and Thomas turned ever so slightly to peak at what he was doing. When he caught sight of what was probably his least favorite possession of James’s, he burst.

            “ _Absolutely not_ ,” he gasped out, swooping the gray cloth out of his hands, “James Madison we are going to the benefit to show it _up_ and there is no way you are walking in there in the literal worst suit in the world.” Fluttering his hands around, he threw it on the floor in another corner and dove deeper into James’s small section of clothing. He retrieved a simple black dress shirt and black pants. Nodding and humming to himself, he grabbed one of his own magenta ties, one that perfectly matched the suit Thomas was planning on wearing. Of course they had to match.

            James rolled his eyes, used to the endearing antics and took the clothing agreeably.

            “You, sir, are absolutely right.”

            “I always am,” Thomas assured him with a smirk, disappearing back into his corner.

            James started to leave, and paused in the doorway, “you know, it’s supposed to dip below freezing today dear, you might want to bring your lemonade in before we leave. It’s just too cold out there for it.”

            He left before he could hear the response.

           


	3. Lemon Juice but This Time It's In a Bucket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H o n e s t l y they are so distracting I meant to write the benefit but then this happened instead oops

He was listening to Thomas grumbling to himself (something about chocolate lemons and pockets?) from across the house when his phone pinged.

            _i’ll be outfront in 5 – John L._

Pulling himself out of his chair, he yelled out to the kitchen where his boyfriend was cleaning the lemon disaster zone.

“I’m going to head out with John soon, what time are you getting there?”

There was a loud banging, then silence, then, “fashionably late James, as always. I have a few errands to run first.”

Honestly, that should have stopped Madison in his tracks. Errands? Run? None of that made sense. Perhaps, if he wasn’t so tired, or so eager to see Laf and Herc again, perhaps if he had just been paying attention, he would have been able to prevent the events of that night. Perhaps…

But that’s a story for the next chapter.

James just shrugged and peered into the kitchen. His boyfriend was holding his hair back from his face with one hand like he did when concentrating. He was scrutinizing their juicer, laying innocuously on the floor. Well, that explained the bang.

“…is it dead?” James asked in a stage whisper.

Thomas looked up at him, still buried deep in thought (which, again, in retrospect, was very suspicious). It took him a moment to process what James had said, but when he did his gaze softened infinitesimally as it always did when James kidded at him. He looked like an angel when he did that, James thought to himself. That angelic innocence was quickly swallowed up by a wolfish grin as Thomas responded.

“Well, you see, I just walked in here and it fell on the floor. I’m honestly not sure what happened. Come here James, you’re always _so good_ with your hands, I am certain you could fix it.”

James needed only look at his boyfriend, covered in lemon juice and holding a bucket of sopping citrus-y water to decide that was a very bad idea. Instead he smiled sweetly (and safely and dryly) from the doorway.

“Oh, am I?”

Thomas sauntered forward a few steps, dragging the bucket alongside him on the counter “ _Oh_ , yes. My favorite hands, in fact.”

“As opposed to who, exactly?”

“The whole wide universe, darling,” he enunciated the vowels suggestively.

“So that includes Alexander Hamilton?”

Thomas chuckled, caught off guard. It was a childish sound though, not a suggestive one, and god James was in love with him.

“ _Especially_ Alexander Hamilton. Everything about you is better than him. Every   last   part,” and there it was, Thomas’s eyes trailing down James’s suit.

“How would you know?”

Honestly, James just loved frazzling his boyfriend.

 _Serves him right_ , he thought, _thinking he’s about to get some covered in lemon juice and with John waiting on me_. He eyed the bucket again, growing slowly closer as Thomas did, and maybe his boyfriend’s motives were less dirty and more…dirty. But in a much less acceptable way.

“I’m sorry?” Thomas asked with an eyebrow raised.

“How would you know?”  He repeated.

“Well, I did spend quite an extensive amount of time last night taking some qualitative data with you. I consider myself quite knowledgeable, and you agree with me if what you were saying last night was any indication.”

“You when I was gasping for breath,”

“Mmmmhm”

“and reaching for my inhaler while trying not to die?”

Thomas laughed again, a big, happy sound, “no no, the other part.”

“You mean when I was laughing after you tripped going to get a towel?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” he chuckled some more, abandoning the bucket to reach for James, who let himself be pulled into the hug. He tucked his face against Thomas’s chest, breathing deeply and searching for his sent before choking on the lemon. Thomas just laughed some more, holding tightly onto him and crushing him into the actually living incarnation of James’s least favorite fruit. James went along with it, enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend’s arms. That was, until one such arm broke away to reach back to where a bucket may or may not have been.

“ _Thomas_ ,” James gasped, laughing and trying to break free.

“Yes darling, dearest, love of my life?” Thomas responded as he single arm-idly lifted James and switched their sides so James’s back was closer to said bucket.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” but by the grin on Thomas’s face yes he very did dare.

Just then there was a loud honk outside.

The two men froze, staring at each other. Their gazes were calculating, each searching for a win. James spoke first.

“If you make me late, if you make me go change, he’s going to come in here. And he’s going to kick your ass,” James whispered into the standstill.

John was beautifully unafraid of Thomas. It was one of the things James loved about his friend.

“I could handle John Laurens,” Thomas whispered back cockily.

“I guarantee you Hamilton will be here in about 5.3 seconds.”

“Your point being?”

“Just that it would be embarrassing to have your ass handed to you in your own house. In front of your own boyfriend. By your nemesis. I think I would have to go home with him after that. Isn’t that how natural law works?”

Thomas finally lurched forward, mashing their lips together.

When he finally pulled back, he whispered into James’s ear, his breath hot against the flesh.

“The day that Alexander Hamilton touches you is the day that I boil him alive in his own damn hot cocoa.” His voice is dangerous and teasing and loving all at the same time and James is infatuated.

“Well you better step up your lemon game then. If Hamilton becomes a billionaire off of this I’m murdering you and John and eloping with his money.”

“Not that I don’t absolutely and completely trust you murdering skills my love, but I think John would murder you back for even looking at his man.”

They laughed together, their bodies warm against another. Their foreheads press together and James hums happily, forgetting the entire world for a moment.

“You don’t actually think he’s cute thought?” Thomas breaks the warm silence.

James opens his eyes seriously, looks Thomas dead in his, and responds, “Indubitably.”

John honks the horn again but James is already moving towards the door, leaving a stuttering Thomas behind him.

“See you tonight baby,” he tosses back, smirking, “I’ll just have to talk with Hamilton until your ‘fashionably late’ face shows up.”

“Maybe I’ll just come in with you now, help to set up!”

“Lovely as that would be, don’t you have those errands?”

Thomas pauses desperately, biting his lip. Finally he nodded slowly.

“Well alright then. I’ll miss you, but it’s only a few hours. I’m sure I’ll be fine. After all, I’ll be in _such good_ company.”

            James shut the door behind him, chuckling out loud and waving to John. He could feel Thomas’s eyes on him from the window as he made his way down the sidewalk, so he made sure to wave across the street to where Hamilton stood on their porch. The other man raised an eyebrow but waved back, a small smile on his face.

            John laughed at whatever face Thomas was making in the window behind James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments do me a happy 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work off of music, and this chapter was written with a dash of Into the Woods, a teaspoon of the Moana soundtrack, and Crazy by Gnarles Barkley on repeat for twenty minutes. It's my Jeffmads song of the year. I can just see the two of them dancing to it after some wine and fine dinning (mac and cheese) in their study.

By the time they arrived at the bookstore/tailor’s, it had turned into a fabulous wonder-scape. Not that James expected anything less from Lafayette; this wasn’t their first benefit he had attended. Smiling as his boisterous friend embraced him, he remembered how much he had enjoyed those previous events.

Chatting with his friends, James allowed the stress of the week to slip away. The drama in Washington’s firm that he, Thomas, and, unfortunately, Alexander worked at seemed far away. He even began to ignore the scent of lemon that was following him around. It was as if Laf had anticipated him arriving with such a load on his shoulders when choosing the paint color of the week, and the baby blue had a calming effect.

            “So, mon cherie, how goes the firm?” It was also as if Lafayette had lured him into such a pleasant environment to trick him. When James turned to face the man, his hands still tying bows in the streamers, Laf was grinning sweetly at him from behind the refreshments.

            “Let me guess,” Hercules yelled from behind the growing mass of cream and turquoise balloons in the corner, “Alexander proposed something new, radical, and poorly thought through, at which point Thomas lost all composure and decency like a toddler and the two started a fight in the middle of a board meeting and were nearly arrested. Again.”

            John chuckled softly and glanced knowingly at James, who just pursed his lips and shook his head, trying to keep from laughing himself.

            “At which point,” Laf continued the theory, his voice syrupy sweet, “our dearest Madison stepped in overtop of the pile of screaming children and retook the meeting, completely decimating our also dearest Alexander’s suggestion entirely without Thomas, leaving him stranded with no bragging rights for the act.”

            James did have to laugh at that, the accuracy of the statement less painful coming out of his friend’s mouth.

            “Yes, something very much like that,” John agreed from the side, watching the whole exchange pleasantly while frosting the _also_ blue cupcakes. He sat the last one down with a flourish, looking proudly down at the array of sweets.

            “Oh, mon caneton, they’re _gorgeous_ ,” Laf exclaimed, swooping over the join John. Herc stuck his head out from behind the balloons, curious what caught his boyfriend’s attention and humming appreciatively (and a bit hungrily) when he too caught sight of the delicacies. The room settled into a comfortable silence, and James finished tying off his final banner.

            Laf gazed throughout the entire room happily, considering. Finally, he declared, “I think we’re almost done.”

            James looked throughout as well, and noticed a spot at the end of the drinks table that was noticeably empty.

            “Here,” he said, getting up to shift the bouquets to cover it.

            “Oh no no, it is fine, mon cherie, you may just leave it,” Laf exclaimed quickly, jumping back to his former spot at the table and brushing James’s hands away. His smile was just a little too large, too forced, and Herc quickly disappeared behind the balloons. John peered at Laf, both curious and suspicious.

            “I agree with James, it does look odd with nothing there,” John said carefully, and James got the impression he was baiting Laf, as if he knew something James didn’t. Or, at least, suspected something James didn’t.

            “It will not be empty, I assure. I just haven’t gotten the bowl out yet,” Lafayette explained, reaching down to shuffle under the tablecloth reluctantly and returning with an ornate punch bowl.

            “Oh, what’s left?” John questioned, looking down the table at all of the different drinks. They seemed to already have everything covered. Studying the set up closer, James noticed the lack of lemonade. Lafayette was very particular in everything he did, and he had certain drinks he always saw fit to serve. James couldn’t remember an event where there hadn’t been lemonade. Not that he cared; he wasn’t a huge fan of lemon anything. However, given the day he had had, he was rather sensitive towards the whole thing.

            John, as well, seemed to sense something was off, and his gaze swished towards the window in time to see Alexander pull up. Instead of brightening with joy as they usually did when Hamilton arrived, John’s eyes narrowed. An expression James knew was still full of love, just a less tolerant one.

            As they watched the short man get out of his car and reach into the back seat to retrieve something, Laf spoke hesitantly.

            “Our Alexander offered to help with the refreshments this time. He suggested we serve something new.”

            “Suggested my ass,” Herc grumbled from behind the clouds of blue and cream.

            Alex reappeared from the back of the car, a box in his hand. When John read it, his eyes closed for the briefest moment, as he held in his breath and made no movement. The ding of the bell brought him out of his internal struggle as Alexander walked in, the large box of hot chocolate mix under his arm.

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dO nOt sPeAk FrEnCh and cannot conjugate in ANY language. Even my own. 
> 
> Yall's response to this gives me happy tears. I just want to say thank you to everyone who reads and comments, or leaves a kudos. I've never had this sort of response to anything before and it is quite beautiful. <3


	5. John Is Getting Scary Over Lemons Yall

James Madison considered himself a simple man with a love of simple pleasures. While he may be a very politically minded person who cared very deeply and fought for the world around him, there were not many things he wished desperately for in his personal life that he did not already have. The one thing that was a constant exclusion from this rule, however, was his basic human need for Alexander Hamilton to _find some fucking chill_.

            The man walked in, his every move aching of strategy. His gaze pointedly missed John’s, and he beamed at Lafayette (the traitor) as he greeted the group.

            “Good early evening gentlemen, it certainly does look incredible in here!” He gushed as he peered around the room innocently, pretending to look for something. His gaze finally and dramatically caught the empty punch bowl, and he strutted towards it.

            There was an abrupt snapping noise; Hercules blowing up more balloons than necessary and spreading them out in a convenient pattern that effective cut him off from the situation occurring.

            “Did you get the table in alright, _dear_?” John asked, his eyes boring into Alexander’s back.

            To his credit, Hamilton didn’t even flinch at the testing tone. James wondered how many times the bastard had rehearsed this out loud on the car drive here.

            “Don’t you worry about that my darling, it is safely covered with a sheet,” he didn’t turn around, unpacking the box briskly.

            John leaned back in his chair, a pensive and thoughtful look on his face. He didn’t speak again, and didn’t look away from his boyfriend.

            Alex’s shoulders grew tense as the silence stretched, though he tried to hide it in his rapid movements. Finally he let his head tilt towards James, safely on the other side of the room and out of eye-contact-danger-zone with John.

            “Madison,” he acknowledged with forced cheer.

            James cocked his head, “Hamilton. What are you doing?”

            Alexander’s face fell slightly, as though he had been hoping the James would help him to move the impending conversation out of verbal-danger-zone and had instead been betrayed.

            “Well, a couple nights ago I was staying late at the office for that merger, and I realized how little time I’ve been spending with my John recently –“

            A part of James wanted to warn Hamilton he was laying it on _way_ too thick, but John’s eyebrows were already shooting up across the way.

            “- so I figured what’s the best way to get involved in something that truly matters to him? And then I realized, the benefit! The one I at no point forgot about or scheduled on top of-“

            John’s lips curved upward ever so slightly at the last part, but his face still made James glad he was on the other side of the room.

            “- And I was hoping to contribute something new and exciting, as I am always so good at doing, and I thought helping spice up the drinks would be a nice starting point!”

            “Will Thomas be in attendance tonight, James” John asked, ignoring Hamilton.

            “Why yes John, I believe he will be. He just had some errands to run first.”

            John’s eyes shot towards him, knowing full well how odd it was for Thomas to run errands of any sort (James did the shopping, mostly because Thomas was incapable of following a shopping list).

            Madison could practically see the gears turning in his friend’s head as he realized how far his banquet was falling from his own hands. Finally, John just hummed noncommittally, and stood up.

            He moved slowly over to the table where Hamilton was still unpacking. John stopped deliberately next to his boyfriend, who still had not looked at him once and knew better than to speak.

            John reached over, deliberately reaching through Alexander’s arms so he had to stop what he was doing. John plucked one of the boxes of Hot Cocoa, and pulled it back to observe it. Hamilton stood absolutely still, looking down at the packet in his hand. After turning the box every which way, John took Alex’s hands and placed the box firmly in them. He didn’t remove his hands from his boyfriend’s though, choosing instead to squeeze them and the box.

            “I really do hope this goes well tonight, there’s going to be so many important people here. If it falls through or something happens, well, I just don’t know what I’ll do with myself. My career, Alex, this shop, it means everything to me. I’m nothing without it.”

            James could see the twitch in Hamilton’s brow as John spoke these deliberate words, his eyes glued to their paired hands. John Laurens had the unique ability to pull words more powerful than anything Thomas could say right out of thin air, and yet still make Alexander Hamilton shut up about it.

            “But you know that already, of course,” John finished cheerily, patting Hamilton’s hands happily and moving away to help with the balloons. Just like that, the situation was diffused.

            James ducked his head and chuckled. Alexander Hamilton may hold the trophy for drama queen, but John Laurens was a close second. He saw Alex look up and watch John’s retreating back, fear still present in his eyes, but an undeniable fondness there as well.

            James watched the two of them and smiled. As crazy and high maintenance a couple as they occasionally were, John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton were indubitably soul mates. With this thought rolling around in his mind, he thought back to when James and Alexander had spent their four months of courtship together their senior year.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey I'm back! Wow I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. Here's a positive though, the reason this chapter is so short is because I started to write the James/Alex backstory and it is LONGER than I expected. So I actually have that finished, but its its own chapter that I'll publish in five minutes so yyeaaa! 
> 
> The response I've gotten from this is absolutely incredible and genuinely makes me happier as a human being! Please continue to comment you beautiful people, it makes my day!


	6. Why Are Lemons Ruining Everyone's Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact: Peggy and Laf are BFF's.  
> ALso Fact: Alex is an asshole and I apologize for his behavior I stg I didn't plan this
> 
> The relationship between James and Hammie was a) in highschool and b) is a different fic within this series now

Everything had gone off without a hitch. Well, “hitch” is a subjective term, James supposed. For example, in the “hitch-less” category fell John, who completely excused himself from everything happening at or around the drink table, and Hercules, who, despite his size, managed to remain an aloof observer with his balloons. Alexander, on the other side of things, had run into a brief problem where the building couldn’t provide hot enough water to melt the chocolate powder. Lafayette was wedged somewhere in the middle, facing an irritated Alexander as the step-in landlord.

            “How could you all work in a building where there is no hot water? This violates so many standards! I’m a lawyer for God’s sake!”

            “We do have hot water mon ami,” Laf replied patiently, “and I apologize that the tap does not spit out _boiling_ water.”

            Hamilton’s mouth opened again, but before he could began Herc called to his boyfriend from across the store for help. To anyone else, it would have appeared that the man was simply not able to reach the shelf, but James had seen him watching Laf and Alex from behind the mass of cream rubber, ready to intervene and save his boyfriend from certain death by boredom.

            James chuckled as Laf strode by, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Alex had not moved an inch, and was staring down at the bowl of lukewarm tap water. The entire situation left Hamilton entirely within the “hitch” zone, all alone. Knowing that could lead to no good, James spoke up.

            “What are you going to do?”

            Hamilton looked up quickly, as though surprised to find James standing where he had been for a solid twenty minutes, folding napkins.

            “James.”

            Folding another turquoise napkin and rolling his eyes, he replied, “Alexander.”

            “You have hot water.”

            “Excuse me?” He asked, both confused and unsettled at the “you” in that sentence. He had planned on refraining from what was becoming _Incident 536 Between The Two Children Living in Mayflower A.K.A Thomas and Alexander_ , a code which had become known as I.B.T.T.C.L.I.M.A.T.A. between literally everyone that was not Thomas and Alexander.

            A code, which of course, once mentioned to said children, sparked another debate. It went along the lines of “Why is A.K.A. only represented by an ‘A’ in the acronym? Its already an acronym, all three letters should be in there?” and “Ex-fucking-cuse me? How the hell is  I.B.T.T.C.L.I.M.A.K.AT.A. in any way catchy? It defeats the entire purpose of the pneumonic device!”

            “At your house, you have hot water. I mean, I know Jefferson is a primitive ape, but you seem to have an air of good hygiene about you so.”

            “I…fail to the relevance of literally any of those things,” James spoke slowly.

            “Can I have your house key? I just need to grab some water really quick.”

            “Hamilton. Where the hell is _your_ house key?”

            Alex waved his hand, “I think one of the children I sold hot chocolate to stole it when I was busy biodegrading the piece of trash you live with. It’s no big deal. John…doesn’t know though. So I can’t ask him for his key.”

            “There are…so many plot holes here. Fine,” James said, knowing he would regret it but at the same time needing the problem to be resolved so he could stop listening to it, “here is my key. Do not make a copy of it, do not let any children steal it. You may have exactly one gallon of hot water. Any more and I’m sending my boyfriend after you.”

            Alexander stared at him for a moment, his hand frozen where it had taken the key.

            “Why do you think Jefferson would be of any aid to you in that situation? Or in any situation? Remind me what exactly it is you see in him again, because _honestly_ James I know you may have shitty political views but even _you_ deserve better than him. Also, if I really wanted all of your hot water, rest assured my dear Madison, I would have it all. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that difficult to connect to your piping system, though the art of subtly would not be in my favor…”

            The entire time he spoke, James was shuffling around, grabbing Hamilton’s messenger bag that he carried around everywhere with him, slinging it across the man’s narrow shoulders, and propelling him out the front door.

            “Mmmhmm yes, you go ahead and try that, see that that doesn’t end with you two digging the road open and the police called again.”

            Alexander glared at him as he stepped into the car, “that was one time!”

            “Actions have consequences!” James shouted out at him before heading back inside.

            “Thank you,” John shouted out from the back of the store when he re-emerged inside.

            “No problem,” James rolled his eyes.

            So yeah. Overall, no major hitches. Until the banquet actually started, of course.

…

            Alexander arrived back just as the guests were starting to arrive.

            He stumbled through the door, somehow managing not to spill the chocolaty water from the brimming bowl in his arms. James frowned, approaching him.

            “I thought you were just getting water?”

            Alexander scoffed, “it would have been just as cold as your pathetic tap if I drove all the way back with it,” and continued over to the table with…wait.

            “Hey, is that my punch bowl?!” James called after him, but Alex just shrugged his shoulders as much he could and kept walking.

            “What did he do?” John asked, his tone dripping with concern and nerves as he came up behind James.

            “Nothing,” he assured his friend immediately, knowing how stressed he was already with the banquet beginning.

            Before John had the chance to attest this statement, a loud squeal deafened the room.

            “LAFAYETTE!”

            The Frenchman whipped around, alarm clear on his face at first, but settling into clear happiness soon.

            “Mon Margarita!”

            A flurry of yellow erupted in a line ending on Laf’s navy suit, where a young woman was firmly latched around his neck.

            “And Angelica!” Another voice rang out, laughter bright in it.

            “Also Eliza!” She announced, flouncing into the room after her older sister in her corn blue formal dress.

            “The Schuylar sisters!” John announced with joy, making his way over to them with James following suit.

            “Ah, and there’s the man of the hour. How have you _been_ Mr. Laurens/Hamilton?” Angelica crowed happily as they hugged.

            John laughed, “well I’m still unmarried Angie, and as I will assure you yet another time you will know when I am because you will be my maid of honor.”

            She rolled her eyes and stepped aside for Eliza to come up next to her, “Nope, still not convinced, yall are as married as…” she finally caught sight of James, “as our dear Madison and Jeffy! Hello darling! Always a pleasure to see you out of the house and those books of yours! I was almost starting to think Thomas had finally complained your pretty little head off and was hiding the body!”

            “Yes Angelica, it is nice to see you too,” James smiled lightly and rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that night.

            “What, uh, what’s going on over there?” Eliza asked, and even her melodious voice was unable to prevent the dread that pooled in John’s stomach at those words. Sure enough, when they turned to find what she was looking at, it was Alexander.

            He stood at the table, obvious caught between playing “bartender peddling a drink” and “regular partygoer who really enjoys this beverage and innocently hopes to encourage others to partake in it as well” by James’s punch bowl of likely lukewarm hot chocolate. He had a paper cup of it out in front of him, and was trying to shove it in a journalist’s hands, an eerily over-enthusiastic smile on his face.

            James rolled his eyes _again_ (honestly he should start a tally) and moved to step into John’s sightline, blocking his view of the quickly approaching disaster.

            “Nothing,” he repeated from earlier.

            “Oh, does this have something to do with the lemonade this morning?” Peggy asked lightly, flouncing over with Laf’s hand in hers.

            Angelica raised an eyebrow at her younger sister’s words, “lemonade thing?”

            “ _No_ ,” John began, but was quickly cut off by a devious Peggy.

            “Oh yes, I was going for my run this morning when I saw TJeffs with a lemonade stand like that one we used to have. And wouldn’t you believe it, Lexie was right across the street with a hot chocolate stand! I’m sure you can imagine how _that_ was going.”

            “Well, its much too cold for lemonade!” Eliza announced, shivering just thinking about the unnatural temperatures. There was a murmur of agreement, and god _damnit_ but James had to defend his boyfriend’s honor he was just in _that deep_ –

            “To be fair, its nowhere near the season for hot chocolate,” he said airily, letting his eyes skim over the crowd and ignoring everyone immediately zeroing in on him.

            “I thought you hated lemons, James?” Eliza asked curiously.

            Angelica spoke, a firm smirk on her face, “so Madison, have you two lemon lovers set the date yet or?”

            Why was it so damn hard to say anything in front of those people? Eye roll #34, and a quick, “as soon as Thomas gets his head out of his ass.”

            “Oh?” Angelica pounced and James really needed to just shut up, “the fact that that man is buried so far up his own backside he will never be able to find his way out aside, do I detect a hint of trouble in paradise?”

            “No Angie, I regret to inform you that you do not.”

            “Oh, regret is such a negative word James,” Peggy crowed.

            James turned towards the table were Hamilton was still standing, trying to peddle off the hot chocolate towards innocent bystanders at an increasing frequency. To his side he saw John standing taught, ready to go reign in his boyfriend until the bell above the door rang and several high-status guests entered. Seeing the conflict on his friend’s face, James leaned over.

            “I’ve got him.”

            John looked at him thankfully and mouthed thank you as he disappeared into the crowd towards the door. As James turned to walk towards Alexander, Angelica called out behind him.

            “What are you two waiting on then, Mr. Negativity?”

            “If you find out, make sure you let me know, cause I’m about as lost as you are,” James grumbled bitterly to himself, trying to force the fact that Thomas was completely ignoring the concept of marriage away, and finding it was now quite stuck in his mind, the way things are opt to be once you realize everyone around you is just as aware of them as you aware. Damn Thomas.  

            “Alexander,” he called out abruptly, the conversation having left him with an unforgiving lump in his stomach, “what are you doing.”

            “I’m just trying to contribute-“ he tried.

            “No,” James cut him off, “stop. Whatever you are doing, whatever point you’re trying to make to some _dumbass_ whose not even here, knock it off. This is not the time for this shit.”

            Hamilton looked at him, eyes wide, “Wow, who the hell twisted your panties? I didn’t think Jeffersin had gotten here yet.”

            James scoffed, “Oh please, I’m just the only one here whose been indulging this immature, pointless _bullshit,_ like with everything else you do, so now that I’m done you’re attacking _me_.”

            Hands up in a placating and defensive motion, Alex proceeded, his tone gaining irritation as he spoke, “Alright I really don’t know what the fuck just happened, but you need to take a step back right now. If this is about it being _John’s_ thing, then I don’t need _you_ of all people to lecture me about respecting my fucking boyfriend.”

            “What the **fuck** is that supposed to mean Hamilton? Is it something like that time with Maria because honestly I don’t want to hear about your scumbag affair.””

            The other man sneered, “Oh, just that you don’t really come from an atmosphere of _respect_ , do you Madison? Living with the human-embodiment of arrogance and a superiority complex. I try not to hold it against you most of the time, given everything we’ve been through, but what you really are is an enabler. You’ve got to be almost as shitty a person as Jefferson is to be able to live with him.”

            “Alex-“ someone tried and failed to cut in, and James didn’t even notice who because if Hamilton wanted to do this now of all places after all these years then _fine_ , they can finally do this.

            “-And I can’t even _imagine_ what it’s like having to rely on him as a boyfriend, I mean _Jesus_ Madison how many times do you just stand there a day when he puts you down? How do you even sleep at night, knowing that all other personality signs point towards a masochistic cheater? Is that what all those pills are really for? Getting you through every second of every day, every night, where he’s not beside you?  I mean _come on_ James it’s been how many years now? And where’s the damn ring? Where’s the damn promise? Nowhere, because he’s fucking incapable of something like that –“

            Hamilton ceased speaking at that moment. It was at that particular moment that he stopped because he suddenly become preoccupied with his nose. It was also at this period in time when said nose started to spout blood _everywhere_. An odd series of coincidences, James considered, as he cradled his now aching hand against his chest. When a few moments had paused, and James was done considering these events, he tuned back into what was happening in the room.

            Laf was standing in front of Alex, forcibly holding his head back and shoving a tissue at his nose, his face carefully blank. John stood to the side, his arms crossed, watching his boyfriend with 4% worry and 96% disdain. The room around them was completely silent.

            “Home,” John spoke a single word, and it was laced with so many promises that several people around him flinched.

            “He can’t drive like this,” Laf spoke, purely factual and still emotionless.

            John’s eyes shut tightly for a second and he tensed.

            “I’ll take him,” James spoke out quietly but surely.

            Nobody responded, but John gave him a long, blank look. James knew his friend was analyzing him, making sure that, primarily, he was okay, and secondarily, that he was not going to sneak his boyfriend off to be murdered. Finally, he nodded.

            The next song started, and then tense silence in the room was broken. John gave him one last meaningful look before disappearing into the crowd, his face simmering red from embarrassment. James caught sight of the reporter from earlier, watching the whole situation avidly. Shit.

            Knowing the only thing he could do at this point was leave, he turned on his heel, leaving Hamilton to follow him out the door.

            “Keys,” Madison instructed when they were outside in the bitter cold by Hamilton’s car. The other man obligingly reached into his messenger bag, pulling them out with one hand while stuffing the tissue up his nose with the other, all without words.

            They got into the car silently, and Madison started the car without looking at the man seated next to him. He pulled out of the parking lot quickly, his eyes glued out the window shield. They remained this way for several minutes until the car reached the stop sign just outside the Mayflower. James pulled the car to a stop, looked both ways, and kept his foot on the break.

            After a moment of sitting there in the dark, he spoke.

            “I didn’t appreciate that.”

            “I’m aware,” Hamilton responded, but his voice contained no snark. Still, he seemed to realize his words were not what he wanted them to be, and tried again.

            “I’m sorry. That was… uncalled for. I just really hate him.”

            “Yeah, Alexander, I’m aware of that. We all are. But that wasn’t about him.”

            “It just sucks, is all” Alexander huffed.

            James turned, slowly, finally to look at him, his blank face still harsh.

            “A lot of things in life fucking suck Alexander,” and he turned back around.

            “It just sucks that _you_ are with _him_.”

            James remained silent, needing Hamilton to make this breakthrough on his own and figure out his shit for once in his life.

            Hamilton continued after the prompting silence, “I like you too much to be okay with it.”

            “ **Its not you job to be fucking okay with it Alexander! You left me! _You_ left _me_ _years_ ago, so you do _not_ get to come back and do this to me! You have _lost_ that privilege!**”

            James raised his hand to his mouth after the outburst, not expecting it from himself. Fucking Alexander Hamilton. Fucking Mayflower. Fucking Thomas.

            Shit. Thomas.

            “Fuck,” he gritted out, reaching down to his pockets to find his phone.

            “Look, James-“

            “Shut up,” James grumbled, pulling out the device to find it dead, and with the only charger at home.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated.

            Abruptly, he slammed his foot on the gas. Hamilton jolted next to him, and he wanted to feel vindictive and find satisfaction for the other man’s obvious discomfort but he was too damn tired. And worried about his own damn boyfriend, who was god knows where and still entirely under the impression that they were attending the banquet.

            Neither man spoke a word for the five minutes left in the ride, and when they pulled into Hamilton’s driveway they got out silently. Hamilton paused for a moment, as though he wanted to say something. Whatever words he had summoned were fleeting though, and he somberly turned to walk to the door.

            He must have asked John for his house key, James though, glad that he had to own up to it.

            He didn’t realize until he was at his own door across the street that Hamilton still had his own house key.

            Godamnit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jemmy my smol bb IM SORRY  
> Next chapter ft. Thomas showing up at the party to find Hamilton and his Jemmy left said party together after the conversation he and James held in the kitchen that morning WHOOO BOY
> 
> Also its 3 in the morning now and I Graduate at 7 tonight WHO LOVES STRESS WRITING? I LOVE STRESS WRITING!


	7. No Lemons Just Vodka

The first thing Madison did was ponder for about five minutes how bad it would be to just fall the fuck asleep on the patio couch. The inevitable next thing he did was think for exactly five seconds of Thomas’s reaction after showing up to the banquet to be told that his nemesis had a) attacked his boyfriend and b) then left with said boyfriend.

            He was marching across the street pretty soon after that, and pounding on Hamilton’s door. Much to his chagrin, there was no answer.

            “Alexander,” he called out, irate and as loud as he was willing to go in the middle of the night and right smack in the middle of the neighborhood.

            Still no response.

            James moved to look closely at the porch, trying to find where he and Laurens would have hidden the extra key. After shifting all of Alexander’s tacky garden gnomes and John’s mostly dead plants, he found nothing. Frustrated and tired, he yanked at the doorknob harshly, intending to knock again. He didn’t have to, though, because the door just swung open. James stared into the dark house, surprised. Madison never left their doors unlocked, especially in the middle of the night. This was a habit that Thomas, after leaving the door unlocked for James to find instead of a glass of water in the middle of the night exactly once, had _very quickly_ learned to adopt as well.

            “No wonder John is so worried you’ll get what’s coming to you and end up murdered,” he muttered as he took a tentative step inside. He shut the door behind him and locked it himself, mostly just to spite the house’s inhabitant, but also partially because the house was dead silent and completely black, and he was a little freaked out.

            James took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax. As a person, he tended to be rather paranoid, and could craft a masterful dose of anxiety out of nothing. You could ask the four locks they had on their front door and the container of hand sanitizer that lived in his pocket about that.

            “Alexander,” he called out, his voice soft. He glowered at himself for letting the dumb asshole and his dumb house get to him, and tried again.

            “Hamilton,” he yelled out. Still no response.

            He took a few more steps deeper into the house, towards where he knew the kitchen was. Rounding a corner, he caught sight of a small sliver of light. His hand reached out and landed on the doorknob for the basement door, which stood ever so slightly open.

            He yanked the door open hastily, glad for the sudden though soft light echoing up the stairs from the basement. The hairs tingled on the back of his neck and he fought the urge to whip his head around and see what the light had uncovered behind him. Instead, he marched down the stairs purposefully.

            “Alexander,” he bit out as he came down to find the main room empty. It seemed a random assortment of the lights had been turned on, casting odd shadows over the card table where their community met on every other Saturday night to play. The only times James had ever been down there had been mostly joyous occasions, marred of course by the more than occasional drunken spat between Jefferson and Hamilton.

            Now though, the room just looked empty and sad. He pushed forward, moving into the back room where they stored the bar and stepping in. The singular ceiling light was off, and James’s eyes squinted as they struggled to adjust in the darkness.

            “Can I help you, Mr. Madison?” A deep voice emanated from directly beside him, causing James to jump.

            “ _Jesus_ Alexander!” He yelled, stepping back into the room to focus on the figure sitting against the wall next to the door.

            Hamilton looked up at him, “Did you break into my house? Because ‘ _you are aware that is a federal crime, yes’_?” he dropped his voice in a poor mimic of Jefferson’s early that day.

            James rolled his eyes, “ _You_ stole my house key.”

            Hamilton visibly dropped back against the wall even farther, “ah, shit.”

            “Yes, ah shit. Can I have it back please?”

            Hamilton’s hand moved swiftly upward, and a rather large clear bottle came into the light before hitting his lips. After taking a large swig, he wiped his hand across his lips and sighed.

            “I’m pretty sure I left them at the banquet. I had them out, intending to give them to you, but obviously I didn’t. I must have set them down somewhere.”

            James blinked.

            “You don’t have my keys.”  
            Hamilton shook his head, bringing the bottle back up.

            “You don’t have my keys, and you _left them somewhere for literally anyone to find and use to kill me_.”

            “Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Hamilton grumbled from his position on the floor. 

            “I’m being dramatic? You’re the one sitting in your dark basement getting drunk off your ass!”

            Hamilton closed his eyes for a second and took a measured breath before asking.

            “Are we really going to do this again tonight?”

            James didn’t respond, just looked at the man below him incredulously. After a moment, he begrudgingly realized the other man was right. It wouldn’t do him any good to scream at Alexander Hamilton, at least not on this particular night.

            “Do you like vodka?” Alexander asked suddenly, holding the bottle up.

            James let out a chopped laugh at the sentence, remembering the last time Hamilton had asked him that same question.

            “No more than I did that night our senior year,” he responded, grabbing the bottle still and taking a huge swig, just as he had done several years ago.

            “Care to join me down here,” Alexander asked when James finally stopped to grab a breath.

            “Not really,” James said, looking down at the dirty floor in disdain, choosing instead to lean against the wall on the other side of the door from Hamilton and sighing. He didn’t offer the half full bottle back, and beside him Alexander shifted to grab a new one from the nearby shelf. They drank silently for a moment before Hamilton broke the silence.

            “What did Angie say to you before you came over to me tonight?”

            James didn’t respond immediately. He hadn’t talked about this with anyone, and Hamilton seemed like the worst person in the world for several reasons to divulge these feelings with.

            “Thomas,” he finally said simply, not knowing why he was choosing now to acknowledge the “trouble in paradise” that the Schuylar had picked up on earlier.

            “Ah,” Alexander grimaced, “I really hit that nail on the head then didn’t I?”

            James chuckled humorlessly in agreement, and said nothing more.

            “I know Angie isn’t a big fan of Thomas, but even she couldn’t trash talk him as badly as me. That’s a title that I get to hold. So… what’d she say?”

            “They were talking about you and Laurens, and when you would finally get married, and then I slipped up and said something even remotely close to showing human emotion and they jumped on me. On Thomas and I. And when we would get…” he gestured loosely into the dark room.

            Alexander was nodding quietly beside him, thinking for a moment before responding.

            “You know, James, that it’s natural for your friends to show interest and concern when you display a ‘human emotion’ that is negative. So… that’s what’s up there,” he finished inelegantly, taking another swig.

            James picked at the skin on his wrists, plucking at the old red pockets from when he had pinched too hard. A nervous twitch he had had since before he could remember. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the other members of their community. ‘ _They were a family_ ’, they told him often enough for him to begrudgingly acknowledge it. Still, he always felt like he was on the outside of the group, rarely understanding the passionate bits of rage and love that they all flung around like free candy at a parade. Where James had grown up, the only emotion that was given out in abundance was melancholy and disappointment. It was a jarring enough transition, moving in with Thomas, who showered him with affection every breathing moment. But having an entire community of people doting on you? It was too much pressure for James, and one of his least favorite pieces of himself was always a little angry at all of them, at how easy they found it to be a family, at how easy it was for them to _want_ a family.

            Hamilton broke the silence, knowing James well enough to know that leaving him quiet when drinking was never a good idea.

            “Secondly, what was your response to that question?”

            James let his head tilt back and hit the wall before answering, “I don’t have one. I don’t know.”

            “Well, obviously you know _something_ ,” Hamilton insisted.

            James turned his head sharply to look at the man’s shadow-y blob in the dark.

            “Actually Hamilton, I fucking don’t. I don’t know jack shit. I don’t know where Thomas and are I going to be in ten days, let alone ten fucking years,” he bit out.

            “What I _meant_ ,” Hamilton corrected, “is that you obviously know _you_ want to get married. I can see it in your damn eyes or whatever. And as much as it may fucking disgust me, and I do mean disgust with a capital ‘D’ Jemmy, he looks at you the same way. So,” he motioned into the room, as though to say _what’s up?_

            “I don’t _know_ ,” and holy shit did his voice just crack? Fuck, this was a bad idea, why the fuck was he down here talking to Alexander Hamilton of all people about this. Also, oh, look, his voice was still going, so that’s fucking _great_ , “every time I try to bring it up he just waves it off, he avoids the topic like the damn plague, and every time everything seems perfect, I remember that one thing, and it’s like he and I are a fucking puzzle with a piece missing. And it’s the prettiest fucking puzzle in the world Hamilton, one of those gorgeous houses with all the flowers and happy neighbors and nice fucking jobs. But he refuses to acknowledge the piece is missing, to look for the damn thing or order a new puzzle or anything, he just wants to let it sit there incomplete and I’ve been staring at the damn puzzle so long like that I think I’m starting to fucking hate it I fucking _hate feeling so lonely_ -“

            His throat closed up at this point, and he finally sunk down to the floor, burying his face in his knees and trying to breath. The room was completely silent except for his muffled, rough breaths.

            Finally, he heard a noise next to him, and looked up to see Alexander’s hand dragging his bottle of vodka away.

            “Oh fuck you,” he choked out.

            “You always were an emotional drunk,” Hamilton pointed out, but he didn’t drink. Instead he placed both of their bottles back on the shelf and sat with his hands in his lap.

            “Do you remember the first time we drank together?” Alexander asked.

            James didn’t respond, unsure where the other man was going. He remembered the night mostly through the facts that were left to be presented after the hangover. Alexander had invited him over to work together on their senior history project, they had gotten quite drunk on Mr. Washington’s vodka, and ended up in bed together. That had compromised the majority of their relationship after that and for their four months together. Getting drunk and handsy. Jesus, they were such fucking _kids_.

            “And then do you remember the second time we got drunk? And the third? And the fourth?” Alexander continued, and James pulled in on himself, concerned where he was heading.

            “Not particularly,” he finally answered, his brain pounding even trying to reach back into the depths of his drunkenness those nights.

            “Exactly,” Hamilton said simply, “that’s what you and me were, for that short while there, a bunch of not remembering. Drinking to forget,” after a moment he added with a humorless chuckle, “fucking to forget.”

            Hamilton continued, “Love fucking _hurts_ , and you and I were so _painfully_ in love with someone else we ended up together. We both knew it too, right from the start, but it was so nice having someone to just _be_ with. I would look at you and think, _‘when he smiles like that, when he closes his eyes and moves like that, he’s thinking of Thomas_ ’ but only on the off chance I wasn’t busy thinking about John. You were so in love with him Madison, and as much as I hate him, I can’t begrudge you that. Even though I’m not _in_ love with you…it doesn’t mean I don’t still love you. We may have collided at the wrong time, and ended up in over our heads, but you changed me James. And I would have to be the most ignorant fool on Earth to see that the two of you, somehow, make each other happier than I have ever seen either of you. The look I see on his face after a hard earned triumph over me in those dumb meetings doesn’t even compare to the way he looks at you every time you say his stupid name. I have absolutely no doubt that that man plans on sticking next to you for the rest of his damn life, much to my misfortune. He’s probably just scared, Madison, I know I am half the time I look at John, when I realize we should get married. How are you not fucking terrified at the idea?” He asked softly, finally turning to James.

            “Because I love him,” James spoke softly, simply, trying to keep his tears out of his voice.

            Alexander nodded slowly, still watching his friend, “I know. I’ve known since I walked in and saw the two of you sitting next to each other in Mr. Adam’s class my first day. He didn’t even look up at me when I walked in. You did, though, and he took that opportunity to stop doodling in your notebook and just _look_ at you. And then you looked back, and saw whatever he had drawn, and you tried so hard to look mad but you just ended up smiling back at him. And I knew.”

            James smiled softly and spoke, “he drew a picture of the two of us on the beach in these awful purple swimsuits. He was trying to convince me to ditch everything that weekend and go with him.”

            “And that, _that’s_ what you remember. The two of you belong together James. A ring doesn’t change anything if you don’t let it.”

            James closed his eyes, and let his breath out, trying to let go of so much with it. For once in his life, Alexander was right.

            “Thanks.”

            “Hey, what are ex-boyfriend - enemies by association – neighbors for? Am I forgiven for losing your keys?”

            James knew he was asking forgiveness for more than that, “Yes.”

            Alexander dramatically let out a fake breath, “Oh good, I was really concerned that you and I were going to have to fight it out and-“

            A sharp bang resounded through the otherwise silent house, silencing both of the men’s breaths instantly.

            “What the hell was that?” James whispered, his former anxiety from upstairs whipping back as it was prone to doing, especially when he was intoxicated.

            Before Hamilton could answer they felt the house shake at their backs, and the sound of a door banging open and shut was apparent from upstairs.

            “John shouldn’t be back yet,” James urged Hamilton, who was sitting completely still with his head cocked as he listened. There was a shuffling upstairs, and the apparent sound of heavy footsteps. Doors were rapidly opened and closed, and it was apparent that whomever had broken into the house was looking for something. After several false leads, they opened the basement door, and the steps could be heard clomping down the stairs.

            James was breathing in huge gulps, his lungs already aching from the impending asthma attack if he didn’t calm down. He didn’t see calm in his future however, as the steps paused at the bottom of the stairs and moved in their direction. He locked eyes with Hamilton as the footsteps stopped just outside the door to their closet. Time seemed to pause for a moment, and James was 100% sure he was about to die. Within the last few seconds he must have moved unconsciously towards Alexander, because it wasn’t hard for the other man to throw his arm protectively over James and shove him backwards behind him when the door was flung open.

            “ _What. The. Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WhooOOOooo could that possibly be? XD
> 
> 1) Alex and James's relationship, both in previous and current tenses, I feel is really well represented by Alex Kozobolis's "I Promise," which is a really bittersweet little piano piece that I think summarizes humanity's need to be sad in order to be happy. I encourage you to listen to it for any reason in the world!  
> 2) The entire first time drinking encounter they talk about here is the second story in this verse in case you were interested in seeing more of the two smol beans pining over their soulmates from afar and from each other's arms.


	8. what the lemon just happened A.K.A. none of these people should ever drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now over 50 pages long oh good lord

           Thomas Jefferson was a people person. He dripped of charisma, and was able to read a person across a party and know exactly what to say to get whatever he wanted. It was one of the reasons he had gotten so far so fast at his job. James, of _course_ , just had to go and be the exception to that rule, as he had to be to every sane principle in Thomas’s life.

            Not gay? Oh wait, here comes James’s face every night in his sleep for that year in France. Think again buddy. Incredibly suave at flirting? Well James has had the code to overwrite ThomasBedVoice.exe with StutteringGarbage.jpg since the day he was born. Drive in life being to explore the world without abandon or any ties? Whelp how about you get a tiny glimpse of domestic life next to a small, sarcastic, sunshine of a person and _get addicted so all you ever want is to eat breakfast in bed and stay in on rainy days and watch old movies and dance to disco and put a ring on his finger –_

            Yeah. Thomas was still working with that very last part.  

            Anyway.

            There were very few things that could unravel Thomas’s cool, suave exterior in a matter of seconds. Well, really there are about a thousand, but considering how 987 of those are all directly James related and therefore an individual subcategory, Thomas considers there to be very few. Thomas’s second biggest enigma is, of motherfucking course, Alexander goddamn Hamilton.  

            So, when confronted with the two biggest rule breakers in his life sitting together, in the dark, smelling highly of liquor, in his enemy’s basement, with said _enemies arm across his boyfriend’s chest possessively,_ he is left with no pretty or clever words.

            “ _What. The. Fuck._ ”

            James’s eyes squint for a moment from his splayed position behind Hamilton where he had been fucking pushed. If he couldn’t already tell from the smell, Thomas would have known then. James always squints, forgetting he has his contacts in or glasses on, when he’s drunk.

            “Thomas?” He asks, his voice labored but purely confused. The hand clutching his chest becomes more pronounced to Thomas. Another ‘James Tick’ Thomas he has stored away; his asthma only acted up when he was panicked. And James was panicked. Sitting in a dark closet with Alexander Hamilton.

            “James,” he answered, trying to sound level headed like he wasn’t just completely thrown off balance. Though, to be fair, he had been a bit whipped up since he arrived at the banquet only to find everyone shying away from him, weird looks on their faces that he could _not for the life of him read_. John had eyed him across the room, confusion and suspicion obvious on his features. Thankfully Angelica approached him and filled him in on what had happened in the damn hour that Thomas had left James alone with the world’s biggest asshole at that stupid party.

            “You’re not at the party,” James stated, still sounding entirely confused.

            “No, Angelica told me that you two left together after Hamilfuck signed his own death warrant and I wanted in on the murdering. But apparently that’s not what we’re doing?”

            “No, we’re drinking,” his boyfriend stated, not moving from his position on the ground.

            Hamilton hadn’t moved either, and had been staring hard at Jefferson since the door opened, his mind deep in thought.

            “Yes, I can see that James,” Thomas bit through his teeth, turning his glare on Hamilton, “Did you kidnap my fucking boyfriend?”

            Alexander rolled his eyes spitefully, “No, _James_ broke into my house,” he sneered at the pretentious asshole in front of him. He hated when Jefferson referred to James possessively like that. _My boyfriend_. Bah.

            “I did _not_ ,” James immediately interrupted before slurring thoughtfully, “I am actually pretty sure Thomas just did though.”

            “James. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

            “It’s dead. And the charger’s at our house. And Hamilton wouldn’t let me go home.”

            “ _He did what?”_

“Oh yeah James, way to go, good job diffusing the situation,” Hamilton jeered, rolling his eyes.

            “Don’t you fucking talk to him like that – “ Thomas started, but was interrupted by James.

            “Shut the fuck up Alex, you’re the one who lured me into your damn house and got me drunk under the pretense that you still had my keys, which you did not at any point have because, oh yes, you lost them after I _trusted you inside our house_!” James elbowed Alex from his position on the floor, still struggling with his breath.  

            “ _What?!”_ Thomas was really struggling to keep up.

            “What the hell James I thought you just forgave me for all of this bullshit!”

            “Well you weren’t being an asshole three minutes ago, plus I was fucking emotional as hell three minutes ago and I’m starting to think you were just taking advantage of me to get me to forgive you for fucking breaking my life at that dumb party!”

            The two of them, still sitting next to each other, had grown progressively closer as they yelled, close enough that it was difficult for Thomas to get his arms around James well enough to pull him away.

            “Stay,” he instructed down to James’s new position on the floor away from Hamilton, whom Jefferson now turned on.

            “Get up,” he ordered.

            Alexander raised an eyebrow challengingly and made to do so. As soon as he was farther away from James, Thomas gripped him roughly by the collar and slammed him against the doorframe. Or attempted to, anyway, as Hamilton seemed to have the same plan in mind. Whatever, Jefferson still dealt the first punch. It doesn’t matter that Hamilton’s follow up landed a lot better.

            Vaguely he heard James yelling at them in the background, and sensed the movement as his inebriated boyfriend struggled off of the floor.

            “I don’t know why the fuck,” Thomas landed another punch on Hamilton’s stupid face, “you feel the need to fuck up everything you little bastard,” Hamilton growled at the slur, “but I swear to fucking god,” Hamilton dodged a nose breaking shot and lands one of his own on Thomas’s jaw, “I will rip your damn throat out,” James’s hands are all over him, trying to pry the two off of each other, “if you ever fucking _look_ at him again,” he jabs his elbow back, ready to jam his fist into Hamilton’s stomach, but throws his arm back into James’s chest behind him instead.  

            He hears James gasp and his hands are gone off of him.

            “Jesus, Thomas-“ James manages to get out before his wheezes get the best of him and whatever progress he built against the asthma attack in the last few minutes disintegrates.

            “James,” Jefferson drops Hamilton immediately, moving toward his boyfriend.

            Madison throws the hand not clutching his chest out franticly, waving his Thomas away.

            “You two,” he gasped, his breaths rapidly worsening, “need to _knock this shit off_.”

            Thomas shuffled around in his jacket, panicked, searching for the inhaler he always carried with him in case something like this happened. He held it out to James, trying to move closer to him, but Madison just backed away, his words becoming more forceful despite their weakening.

            “Thomas I’m not joking, the two of you are going to kill me,” his eyes are alternating between squeezed shut and flicking back and forth between Alexander and Thomas.

            Hamilton had recovered from his position slammed against the wall and was approaching James as well, looking equally as panicked. The only attack he had ever witnessed firsthand had been in high school and had ended with James in the hospital. His own eyes flicker between James and the ignored inhaler, his stance tense.

            “James-“

            “We can’t keep,” gasp, “ _doing_ this, _I_ can’t, please please plea-“ he can’t get the last please out.

            It’s almost amusing how similar Thomas and Alexander’s faces are, wide in alarm and terror.

            “James, _please just_ -“ Thomas holds the inhaler out desperately, but James shakes his head vigorously, all out of words. His back hits the wall and one hand creeps up to clutch his throat.

            “Okay okay fine James please its fine, Thomas I’m sorry, okay? I’m an asshole of a human being and it is wrong of me to pick fights with you!” Alexander blurts out, his eyes not leaving James despite the fact that he wasn’t addressing him.

            “Yeah sure,” Thomas quickly jumps on, “We’re both assholes, fighting is bad, we are not acting like adults, I’m sorry I called you a bastard, let’s never fight again!” He is breathless and quick with his words, desperation ringing through.

            James had looked back up, was watching them both intently. After another moment passes, Alexander actually tore his gaze away for a moment to look at Thomas for a brief millisecond, and speaks again.

            “I’m sorry I talked shit about you to your boyfriend when you weren’t even there. It was a dick move.”

            Thomas watched Hamilton next to him, appearing somewhere near as concerned as he was, and nodded, “It’s good.”

            James watched them both intently for another moment, and when no one called take-backsies, he stood up straight and took a deep breath.

            “Oh thank God, I thought that was going to take all night,” he sighed in relief.

            They watch him, confused, Thomas’s hand still opening and closing on the inhaler.

            James walks past him confidently, patting his shoulder as he strode by.

            “Thanks babe, I think I’m all good now though. I’m ready to go home.”

            He grabbed the two half drunk bottles of vodka on his way out, without looking back at the two men and without struggling for a single breath.

            After a beat of silence and hanging mouths, Alexander’s finally managed to form words.

            “We’ve been played.”

            Thomas didn’t respond, just watched the open doorway where his boyfriend had left. Several emotions flicked across his face, primarily confusion. Hamilton watched him carefully, unsure what the other man’s response would be.

            “Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking in love with him,” Thomas whispered to himself before striding out the door after James, not giving Hamilton a second look.

            “What the fuck?” Alexander asked into the now empty room, echoing Thomas’s earlier question. The two of them definitely belonged together, he surmised, before dragging himself out of the room. He needed some fucking sleep. Not even the sight of the broken garden gate out the window or wide open door into said garden would stop him. He could always smash Jefferson’s dumb garden gate back tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jemmy has to take some...adaptive measures to deal with Thing 1 and Thing 2. Kick some butt Jemmy Boi. 
> 
> Yall's comments have been the most amazing thing in the world, I appreciate you all so much <3 If you have any scenarios or anything you want to see in this AU shout it out! Next on my to-do list is a beach trip with EvErYoNe. And that's going to go swimmingly (haha) and nobody will get spicy and no secrets about former relationships will slip out and everything will BE FINE. Doesn't that sound great?
> 
> Love yall <3


	9. Thomas and James do a Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they all make me so tired but i love my smol beans

             He can hear Thomas behind him. He was definitely trying not to stumble, but was still rushing to catch up. James narrowed his eyes and willed the lock on the front door still stay still enough for him to throw it open. He succeeds in doing so, and manages to step out into the night and take another swig of the vodka before Thomas is upon him, gently but firmly prying both bottles from his hands.

            “Enough of that,” he says, but doesn’t place the bottles back in Hamilton’s house before closing the door. He brought them up to his face, instead. 

            “Did you drink all of this?” Thomas asked.

            James just shrugged, still walking down the stairs and towards their house.

            “Alexander helped a bit. He was in a helpful mood today,” he said without turning around.

            “Really? Because that’s not what Angelica said,” Thomas’s voice was growing spicy again, “remind me again what the two of you were doing down there again? Because we never actually got around to explaining literally anything.” He spoke quickly, moving to catch up with James, who was now in the middle of the street.

            “We were talking about you,” James’s voice was loud and clipped and mean, and he didn’t even know why. Yes he did. He was hurt. He had been for a while. The only difference was that now he was drunk.

            Thomas was quiet, and he stopped in the road, watching James walk away.

            “What about me?” He asked, his tone muted.

            James stopped too, but didn’t turn to look at his boyfriend. How dare Jefferson feel _scared_? He had no damn right to feel scared about what Madison felt. That was James’s right, was becoming all he had left. Thomas was the one who was never home. Thomas was the one who refused to have any serious conversation about _them_. Thomas was the one who left him for France, for work, for something something something time and time again. _Thomas_ left _him_.

           “Why are you even with me, Thomas?” He asked quietly into the darkness. He head Jefferson suck in a sudden breath behind him.

           “What the hell kind of question is that James?”        

           There was fear in his voice. Damn him. James couldn’t hold them both together, especially not drunk like this. His head ducked down.

           “One that I’m having a hard time answering.”

           “Bullshit,” Thomas breathed out behind him, “James where is this coming from? I thought we were… everything has been… great. I didn’t know that you were…” he struggled obviously with every word, each drowning in emotion. James couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do this. He wished he could go back, erase this conversation. It didn’t matter, he was being needy.

           “ _James_ ,” Thomas’s voice broke, and he hadn’t moved a step. James could imagine him behind him, stock still, his shoulders dripped slightly in, looking afraid to move.

           “Why you don’t want me?” James finally asked, his own voice suddenly far past broken.

           Thomas didn’t say anything behind him, and the world seemed to crash around James. He let out a harsh, shuddering breath that quickly morphed into a sob. He wanted to move, to get inside the house, to shut the door on this conversation like he did with every other problem in his life.

           “what?” Thomas asked, his voice soft like liquid smoke, evaporating in the air, “James, _no_ , I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what I did, but I am so sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t… that I didn’t _want_ you. Jesus Christ, Jemmy, you’re all I’ve ever wanted, right from the day I met you,” he was moving forward then, finally, coming up behind his boyfriend.

           He extended a hand, intending to grab Madison’s shoulder and spin him around into Thomas’s chest. But he hesitated at the last moment, his hand hovering over James’s shoulder. James, who after the first escaped noise quickly clamped down on himself, and was standing as still and as tense as seemed humanly possible.

           “Honey?” Thomas asked quietly, trying not to break down at whatever the fuck was happening as well. He felt panicked, like someone had yanked him down into the water and it was rushing all around him, ready to carry away his entire life. The worst part of it was that James had already been down there, and Thomas had no idea. _He was supposed to fucking know these things, it was his damn job_.

           “Why don’t you want to marry me then?” James’s voice was smaller than Thomas had ever heard it, and his heart broke into a million pieces, even if he didn’t quite understand what was happening.

           “What? What do you mean? James I _never_ said that I didn’t want to-“

           “But _I did_. I did say, Thomas, and I don’t need you to feel the same way, I can’t ask that of you, but I need an answer, I need to know how to work from here, what I’ve been doing _wrong_ -“

           “Stop it,” Thomas ordered, not hesitating this time as he reached towards his boyfriend.

           James came without a complaint, completely limp in Thomas’s arms as he was pulled into his chest. Thomas clutched at him, willing for his boyfriend to hold him back, not just _let_ Thomas do whatever he pleased to him.

           “James, honey, I did not mean to…to give you that impression. You have done _nothing_ wrong, you are the most perfect, gorgeous, caring love of my life I could have asked for, and I am sorry that I obviously couldn’t reciprocate that well enough. I love you so much, more than anything else on this planet, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just assumed you knew that, which was stupid of me, and I’m sorry that I can’t stop being such an asshole and not seeing past myself-“

           “You’re not an asshole,” James sniffed into Thomas’s coat tiredly, leaning in a bit and starting to reciprocate the embrace.

           “I obviously am,” Thomas wasn’t speaking to contradict James, but out of pure misery. James peeked up at him and saw his face for the first time. He looked absolutely _wrecked_.

           “No,” James sighed, “I’m just drunk. Let’s just go home, forget I ever said anything.”

           Thomas’s face wrinkled up in confusion and horror, “No!”

           James looked at him sadly and squeezed his arm softly before pulling away to go inside. Thomas latched onto his hand, though, and stopped him. The taller man’s eyes zeroed in on their joined hands, and suddenly he was the one avoiding eye contact.

           “James…I know I did…I did deliberately avoid that question, when you brought it up. I didn’t want to talk about…about getting married. But that’s not because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you, because I don’t even have to think about it to know that I undoubtedly do. It’s just that…it didn’t really occur to me that we needed to be married to do that.” He stopped for a moment and bit his lip, “well, that’s a lie. It did occur to me. It occurred to me a lot. And I think about it a lot. How nice it would be… but after what happened between my mom and dad…”

           The words hang in the air and James winced a bit, remembering Thomas’s retelling of the lovebirds whose love was ruined by marriage and turned into something awful right in front of Thomas’s six year old eyes.

           “I’m scared, James. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re with me out of some obligation. I don’t want to hold you back.”

           A silence hung for a moment, as James stared at his boyfriend with wide eyes.

           “hold me back,” he breathed quietly, reiterating Thomas’s words, “hold me back from what? There is nowhere in the world I want to be more than right here.”

           Thomas swallowed, “and if that changes?”

           “Thomas I’ve been in love with you almost my entire life. I don’t even remember what it’s like going a day without your face at the front of my mind. There is no way I’ll change my mind. You have royally pissed me off about once a month but _never_ have I come anywhere close to changing my mind. You _are_ my mind. There is nothing-“

           Thomas rushes forward, and his cheeks are wet when he presses their faces together, gently caressing James’s lips with his own.

           “I love you,” Thomas’s voice is wet and shaky against James’s lips.

           “I love you too,” James responds in kind, clutching fiercely at his boyfriend.

           They spend a few moments like that, locked in each other’s embrace, reminding themselves of every inch and cranny that the other possessed.

           “James?”

           Madison just hummed in response, letting their faces fall together so their foreheads touched, and closing his eyes. He was exhausted, and the vodka wasn’t making it any easier to keep his eyes open.

           “Will you marry me?”

           That opened his eyes.

           “Nope,” he sighed, pulling away and walking up their steps.

           “Wait, what?” Thomas asked after him, befuddled for the millionth time that night.

           “After all that, I think I deserve something a bit better the happy resolution to another one of you and Hamilton’s fights. I want to be blown away Thomas, go big or go home.”

           Thomas just stared after him, mostly in awe. James stuck his head back out the door when Thomas didn’t follow, an eyebrow raised.

           “But you can actually just go home cause I’m tired and drunk and I need you to help me up our five hundred stairs.”

           Thomas let out a breathy, unexpected laugh. He felt…lighter than he had an hour ago, and letting the sound out was cathartic. James smiled softly at him from the door before somehow stumbling while standing still against the doorframe.

           Thomas rolled his eyes and marched up the stairs, “come on then, love of my life, darling and dearest,” he approached James and, much to the other man’s obvious chagrin, easily scooped him up.

           “Easy there tiger, we aren’t married yet,” James reminded him clutched at Thomas’s shoulders.

           “Not yet,” he agreed, “beautiful, my little minx, sweetheart, valentine, my sweet piece of-“

                      He stopped abruptly as they passed the kitchen. They both stared in amazement at the scene in front of them.

           Brown dust covered every foreseeable surface, and brown _goo_ covered a third of them. There were several empty milk jugs scattered about, along with vacant hot chocolate pouches.

           “He didn’t even use hot water,” James spoke softly.

           “Did…did you let Hamilton into our house?”

           “Yes.”

           “Unsupervised?”

           James looked up at him, his face questioning, searching Thomas’s.

           “No?”

           “So you were here and you let this happen?”

           “Oh. Well, no.”

           “I should drop you,” Thomas spoke in amazement.

           “Honestly I would just fall asleep on the floor and then you’d be cold in bed without anyone there to warm you up you natural hypothermic,” James spoke confidently, and Thomas was so overcome with love and exhaustion from the night that he just leaned down and kissed James in agreement before moving towards the “five hundred” stairs.

           “You do have to help me get back at him for that now, though. You’re officially involved,” Thomas pointed out.

           “That’s fine,” James yawned in his arms, tucking his head closer to Thomas’s throat and knowing he would regret his words in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I think I know where this is going they t a k e over??????? Anyway. James deserves his own proposal fic and my boy knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments actually give me life!


End file.
